Masked Notes
by calliedot
Summary: Modern AU : When an unexpected acceptance letter finds its way into the mailbox of Christine Daaé, she doesn't expect the strange and magical world that opens up to her, nor the mysterious masked man that came tumbling through with it. Leroux/ALW based Canon.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Erik found the reality of being a college professor significantly much less appealing than he had previously thought. What he had imagined being a rather pleasant and relaxing job turned out to be one full of positively unnecessary paperwork, excessive staff meetings, and thankless lazy students- the latter of which he particularly despised, as he was made to offer 'mandatory' extra help hours to those special students who had decided not to put in any effort into their assignments, and were now complaining about the failing grades he had very gladly given them. The only saving grace he could imagine for this dreadful job was the concert hall. The facilities of this particular university were quite impressive he had to admit, and to his delight, they were open to him whenever he felt inclined to make use of them. In the very first week of his employment at the school, he had committed every square inch of the building to memory, along with its various secret pathways he found quite on accident. One feature in particular never failed to take his breath away, even after the countless hours he had spent teaching and practicing underneath its majestic beauty- the chandelier.

He sat slightly slumped forward with his elbows bent stiffly on his desk, cradling a cold cup of old coffee between his hands as he stared glumly at the harsh light of his laptop screen. An unread email glowered back at him defiantly, almost mocking him as he remained still for a few moments before grudgingly relinquishing the mug as he finally moved to open it. With one click he had come to instantly regret his decision. Erik's jaw clenched with mild irritation as dim golden eyes scanned the sparse text included, noting the title, sender, and numerous attachments which followed.

* * *

 _From: Nadir Khan_

 _To: Erik Delacroix_

 _'URGENT - Late Application'_

 _Erik,_

 _Due to some internal system error, we've only just now found this application and we need you to go through it ASAP._

 _Acceptance list needs to be finalized tomorrow morning and we can't afford to lose a potential student this year. The interview will be waved._

 _Please find the application and other related files attached in this email._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Nadir Khan_

* * *

A harsh scowl crossed his expression as he finished reading, violently twisting both the warped and untouched features of his face, the lack of an apology for this unexpected assignment from an old friend proving to just be an added provocation. Nadir had neither been one to really understand boundaries nor understand the appropriate time for calling in favors. Sucking in a sharp breath, he prepared himself and proceeded to open the first attachment.

He was again met with another instant regret.

Erik froze in his chair the moment he saw the size of the first essay he had to read, and a faint choking sound of despair bubbled in his throat. His eyes narrowed cruelly as paragraph upon paragraph flew by before his burning glare, his resentment towards Nadir growing with each one he scanned. The room buzzed with the mounting tension of fury churning in his chest, the faint groaning sound of his own grinding teeth piercing the crackling air. He didn't even bother looking at the name highlighted in the top left corner, figuring that he would end up rejecting this applicant anyway, if only even due to his foul mood. With a silent prayer muttered to no-one, he moved straight on to the behemoth of a personal statement, noting that the university should start to put in word limits.

This was going to take a while.

 _'From a very young age...'_

A very loud click signified he had skipped to the next page.

 _'...my father had always been the one encouraging me to continue_ practicing _...'_

Another click.

 _'...it was difficult after his death, and especially now that I was on my own it seemed to me that the music in my life had all but disappeared completely.'_

His finger stilled over the trackpad, hovering briefly as he processed the few words he was reading, an odd fluttering of something in his chest stilling the rising irritation if only just for a moment, but it wasn't long before he moved on with another click which seemed more definitive than the last.

 _'...it is only because of my dear friends and the memory of my father that I have found the strength to once again pursue my passion...'_

 _'...I believe that I am a perfect fit for the university because...'_

They all believe that.

They're all usually wrong.

Erik sighed in resignation, allowing himself to recline back in his chair. There was truly nothing special about the application. Her (now that he had determined the applicant to be female) grades were average, she sold a regular sob story he had heard before, and her repertoire of hobbies and interests were just plain old ordinary.

He was remarkably underwhelmed.

It had been a complete and utter waste of his time, just as he thought. A sharp intake of breath whistled discordantly at his lips as he went to close out of the document, determined to write a strongly worded email to Nadir, and a scathing rejection letter to the unfortunate applicant. While clicking back onto Nadir's email, he noticed an attached video file he had neglected to see before. Erik blinked, reading the file name ( ), and before he knew it a new window had popped up on his screen as it began to load.

The camera was pointed at the ceiling until he heard some faint shuffling and the nervous whispering of two voices in the background. A minute quickly turned into an eternity of staring at a plain eggshell white ceiling, and he was beginning to almost doze off a little until he saw a flash of movement as a figure moved to stand in front of the camera and finally adjusted the frame lower. A small upright piano, a bare desk, and a very nervous looking young woman came into view. Erik blinked again, willing the haze to clear from his eyes, the sudden change coaxing him out from his lethargy. She wore a simple pale blue blouse and a mess of tight deep chestnut curls fell quite elegantly across her chest and shoulders. Her pale skin seemed to almost glow like porcelain even in the poor lighting of the room, and the pools of cerulean that swirled hypnotically in her eyes seemed to generate an inescapable gravity that almost physically pulled him closer to the screen. It wasn't until she offered a nervous smile and began to walk to the piano that he remembered the application, and that this most likely was the applicant in question. Erik's throat bobbed nervously and he blinked, shaking his head weakly to clear the strange fog that had settled over his mind, but he just couldn't quite shake the odd sensation that had buried itself in his chest the moment he saw her. It was almost as if there were hundreds of unheard melodies glimmering enticingly in her eyes, tempting him to close his own and to let her music command him, to possess him and to guide him. Erik bolted upright at the sound of the piano, not realizing that he really had started to doze off, completely absorbed in his daydream. Hastily refocusing himself on the task at hand, he watched motionlessly in a repressed silence as she began to play.

He found that her technical skill was adequate, and as she switched instruments from piano to violin, he observed that she was somewhat more proficient in the latter- but again, it was nothing exceptional. The brilliant shine of promise in her eyes faded as he listened tiredly, as did the melody that she had inspired to dance at his fingertips. After a few pieces, the fine wooden instrument came to rest gently on the piano bench and he watched carefully as she moved back to address the camera with an oddly significant amount more confidence than she had before, a certain energy now buzzing around her as she bounced over and smiled warmly before waving quickly to end the video.

It had been a mediocre performance... if he could even call it that.

He sat forward unimpressed as he went to close the window, words for an apathetic rejection letter already storming forward in his mind when he realized that the video didn't end there, seeing the continued movement on his screen. The click of a button echoed softly, and he found himself startled unexpectedly by her sudden groan and exaggerated collapse to the floor. The following squeal of excited praise from another female voice and complete disregard for the still rolling film suggested that she and her company must have thought the video to have been cut by then.

 _"Christine you were amazing!"_

 _"No! Oh my god, I totally flubbed the waltz and did you even hear how scratchy my bowing was?"_

Erik recalled that she had, in fact, missed a few notes in her second piece and was absolutely correct when it came to the admission of her rigid bowing technique.

 _"Nonsense! It was absolutely perfect."_

The girl sat back up from the ground, returning to the frame of the video as she buried her face in her hands in defeat, her voice muffled as she whimpered.

 _"You should have sung."_

The brief silence that followed her companion's words was painful even for him to witness through a screen.

 _"Meg, you know I never would have."_

Her tone had changed suddenly, now heavy and laden with a dismissive reluctance.

 _"Ok then, how about you sing for me then?"_

 _"Meg..."_

 _"Oh come on! I'm your number one fan!"_

 _"No."_

 _"Pleeeeeeease?"_

There was a beat of silence before 'Christine' gave a reluctant huff and forced herself to her feet. Erik waited patiently for a moment, the small amount of intrigue he had fading quickly, a faint pang of disappointment spreading through him as he thought the video to have finally ended- whatever this was had been at least somewhat entertaining to watch. Then he heard it. There was a hesitant intake of breath, and then he could have sworn he heard the very voice of an angel pouring out of the speakers of his laptop.

 _"Think of me."_

Erik's eyes widened at the lyrics. He recognized that piece and its origin- Hannibal. It was quite a particular opera, one that he never found himself to be fond of, but on her lips, the sound of the music somehow transformed into something... something more.

It transformed into something divine.

The sound of her voice spiralled out into the far corners of the gloomy office, glowing a rich gold in the dark and curling warm around his body like blankets of silk. He let himself melt into its embrace, his eyes drifting shut as he felt his very soul being serenaded into heavenly bliss. There were only a few more seconds to the video before it cut abruptly without warning, leaving Erik cold and sitting in a numb silence, a burning emptiness in his chest, a longing for the return of the touch of something that had never even been there with him physically.

His breath rattled as he stared wordlessly at his computer screen, his hands shaking slightly as he scrolled back to the top of the application, this time reading the first line he had intentionally skipped before.

 _'Christine Daaé.'_

It was only when he had closed his laptop afterwards that he was able to process what had just happened. He sat unblinking in his chair for a while, expression drained pale in shock as he contemplated what he should do.

She truly wasn't exceptional in any of her instruments, her writing was simple, and if that were all he had witnessed that night then he wouldn't have even given her another thought past her putting down the violin in the video. But that wasn't all he had seen. That wasn't all that he had heard. A faint rhythmic clicking rattled in the air as he curled and uncurled his fingers into his hand, knuckles cracking as he roughly pressed his nails unforgivingly into his palm, hoping that the sharp stab of pain he felt would jolt his mind into functioning properly again.

 _She's just a girl._

And for a moment he believed it.

 _Yet she sang with the voice of an angel._

With an exasperated growl, he moved swiftly to thrust open his laptop once more, the unforgiving glare of the white screen illuminating the nightmarish landscape of the right half of his face in the dark room. His hands froze over the keyboard as a nagging doubt crossed his mind, his eyes blinking shut as he took a shaky breath, silently willing himself to act.

Maybe he should give her a chance.

The call rang for a few moments before he heard a rapid shuffling on the other end and an incredibly tired voice began to croak.

"Hello?"

"Daroga."

There was a beat of silence, and the receiver's silent disbelief at his call was painfully obvious over the line.

"Erik? It's three in the morning, why are you-"

"I'm handling the mess you shamelessly dumped on me only an hour ago, so don't ask me why I've decided to interrupt your much-needed beauty sleep at this hour."

He scoffed, his voice low and laced with venomous spikes of contempt. Erik sat for a moment, drumming his fingertips on his laptop as he carefully formed his next words.

"Christine Daaé."

Nadir sighed, having no outward reaction to Erik's fiery temper (he was used to it at this point) and simply scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he too tried to avoid stumbling over his words.

"About that… I had someone else review it, thinking you wouldn't give my message any thought, and they've already reached a decision. It wasn't anything special, so you don't need to worry ab-"

"My decision was to accept her."

The silence that ensued was again deafening. Erik felt his throat constrict and his lips crack dry as he waited, a foreign feeling fluttering nervously in his chest as he heard his associate's breath catch in unexpected shock.

" _What?_ "

"I reviewed her application and I have decided that she would indeed be a good fit for the university."

"I heard her recording. I know your standards and she was nowhere near close to satisfactory for you."

He noted that there was a growing sound of tired irritation biting into Nadir's voice.

"Erik if you're trying something-"

"I'm not trying anything!"

He cut him off abruptly, and if he were slightly more awake than he was at the moment, he may have recognized the sound of his friend scoffing lightly at his sudden declaration.

"I have simply decided that Miss Daaé should be given a place here, and it is your best interest to agree with me on this."

Nadir took another unsettling pause, finding traces of a threat at the end of Erik's prickly words and making careful note of them.

"Alright, I'll go switch her spot."

Erik physically felt the tension loosen in his chest almost immediately at the other's calm response, his head feeling a little too light as he brought it forward in his hands on his desk, almost completely forgetting that Nadir was still on the call.

"Erik?"

The other man's voice came as a surprise to him, and he had to will himself to not jolt upright in his chair.

"Yes?"

He stammered uncharacteristically, his voice hesitant, having traded its commanding tone from before for something quieter and more appropriate for how exhausted he was.

"Take care of yourself."

With that, the call ended and Erik once again sat in silence at his desk. He still couldn't come to terms with what had just happened, nor could he admit his genuine investment in seeing this 'Christine' be admitted to the school. Her resume was far from impressive, and whoever had reviewed her application prior to him was right to reject her- and logically he should have reached the same conclusion.

 _But her voice._

It was another few minutes before he moved, the lid of his laptop clicking shut this time for good as his gaze fell indolently to the scattered stack of manuscripts at his right hand. In the dying light of his office, he was just barely able to make out the title on the cover page written in a burned crimson ink.

 _'Don Juan Triumphant.'_

A faint smile played at the edges of his lips, the flicker of the beginning of an idea shooting like a star across a pair of scorched gold irises

Perhaps now that he had some inspiration from an angel, he may just be able to give life to this little dark fantasy of his after all.

* * *

 **Author's Note :**

Thank you so much for reading the first chapter! I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! This is just the tip of the iceberg for the story I have planned, and I'll be back with the next chapter before you know it!

Feel free to leave a review to let me know what you think! Reviews are the fuel for the fiction!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The day had dragged on for far longer than she would have liked it to, but now that she was home snuggled deep within the folds of the fluffy cloud that was her sherpa lined blanket, the past hours seemed to just melt away. A long sigh drew out from her lips as she sank back into her couch, a steaming mug of hot chocolate gently cradled in her hands as she eyed the television suspiciously to try and guess what movie she had randomly selected for the night's entertainment.

She had figured it out in seconds, the telltale mass of shiny blonde hair and gaudy pink text on the screen immediately screaming 'Legally Blonde'. Christine smiled, chuckling quietly to herself as she mouthed the 'Delta Nu' chant she remembered to the dark empty living room. It wouldn't necessarily be a movie that she would intentionally pick out, but it was one she would enjoy nonetheless, and so she happily snuggled deeper into her blanket fortress and took a satisfying sit of the rich drinking chocolate in her oversized mug.

That was, of course, until her phone buzzed with the fury of a thousand suns- causing for her to jump, a holy fountain of the sweet winter drink raining down upon her as her mug flipped out of her hands, and she could only watch helplessly as the flood of chocolate came crashing down onto her pristine white shirt and favorite black and white checkered sweatpants. She sat frozen in disbelief for a moment, the buzzing chorus of her cellphone still ringing relentlessly from the table in front of her. This was not how she had planned her Saturday night to go. With an exasperated huff, she pushed herself off her blanket (which was thankfully untouched by the hot chocolate for the most part) and leaned forward, cringing as the sagging wet clothing squelched grossly, grabbing her cellphone and glaring daggers at the screen.

' _Unknown Caller.'_

Her expression of mild frustration shifted quickly into one of confusion, uncertain of who could possibly be calling her at nine o'clock at night- on a _weekend_ as it were. Debating for only a brief second longer, she ultimately decided against taking it, and with the click of a button, the panicked buzzing of her mobile device ceased as she plopped it carefully back onto the coffee table. Only as she sat back down did she remember her ruined clothing and tragically spilled drink. Christine stood slowly, squeezing her eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath and switched off the TV in a furious silence.

What a day.

As she trudged miserably off to her bathroom to shower and change, she felt a weighted fog pulling at her mind, an underlying thought nagging at her consciousness as she let the warm water and calming pressure of the shower attempt to wipe clean her anxiety and hot chocolate tragedy that had just befallen her. Before she could even register what was happening, she felt her body start to shake slightly as tears began to well up in her eyes. Her surprise was quickly wiped away by a sudden and overwhelming weight on her chest, her head spinning as her thoughts swarmed her, stealing the breath from her lungs. She sobbed quietly into her hand as she leaned against the wall of the shower; the abrupt rush of emotion being too much for her.

Memories of the past year came flying back to her in frigid torrents of black and grey wind, whispering broken songs of intricately carved marble, silent prayers and fallen rain that seemed more like tears- the rolling waves of thunder carried with each crystalline drop more like shattered cries from heaven itself. First, it had been her mother, then her father…and now her dear Mamma Valerius. She was truly alone for the first time in her life- and she was oh so afraid.

Stepping out of the shower a few minutes later, her frantic cries gradually reducing to strangled gasps for air, and Christine caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror- her head snapping up to see the curious figure that stared back at her. It was an odd thing, its body thin but not _too_ unhealthily so, a luscious head of chestnut curls draped across its shoulders, and an odd pair of shifty eyes that bore right into her- the dark circles that hung underneath giving the figure a slight ghostly air. Only as she raised her hand to it did she connect the form to its owner- and she could only watch in silent surprise as the movement of her hand was mirrored by the ghost before her.

A lump formed in her throat and she blinked, the world darkening both for her and the inhuman form she was watching. Her reflection continued to stare right back at her, and she felt as if she were caught in a spell cast by her own ghastly image. Its eyes seemed to be crying out something, but its message was muffled, trapped behind the mirror that separated the reflection from its originator. Although she couldn't actually hear what it was trying to say, she recognized the tormented fear in those familiar blue irises all too well, and it wasn't long before the words were echoing mercilessly in her head once more.

 _You're alone._

A beat.

 _Nobody wants you._

Christine felt her breath stop.

 _They died because of you._

* * *

"Christine."

The coffee that sat in front of her was most definitely moving. When it thought she couldn't see, it moved slightly closer to the edge of the table, determined to fall to its inevitable death if she didn't keep careful watch over it.

" _Christine._ "

She needed this coffee, and the coffee needed her to keep watch over it. If she stopped looking then it would absolutely-

"CHRISTINE!"

Christine jolted upright in her seat, the table rattling in annoyance, and stared wide-eyed at the owner of the voice which had just hissed her name. It took her a minute to match the powerful voice to the delicate blonde that sat across the table from her, the light coming through the adjacent coffee shop window weaving delicate ribbons of light through her already magnificent locks. The girl sighed as she saw Christine's dumbfounded look, and as her friend continued to stare wordlessly at the blonde's hair, she decided to at least take a sip of her own cappuccino before it went cold.

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

Her question came as a surprise, spoken softly still, but was somehow just enough to draw the still transfixed Christine out from her blonde hair induced trance.

"Huh?" Came her unintelligible and essentially brain dead response, and judging by the look that her company gave her, she wouldn't need an answer to her question. "What was that Meg?"

"I _said_ -" Meg huffed, pausing before waving her hand and taking another sip of her drink, glancing briefly with bored curiosity out of the window, "Never mind… Christine you know you're totally spacing out on me here, right?"

"Y-Yeah, sorry I didn't get much sleep last night." She stumbled slightly over her words, and Meg released an exasperated groan of defeat as she hid her face against the table despite the odd looks the other café patrons gave her- the irony of the situation unbearable this early in the morning.

"No shit." Now it was Meg's turn to give a muffled response, her voice quietened by the wooden table beneath her.

Christine grinned with mild amusement at the sight of her friend's concerned frustration, her eyes brightening for just a second as she let herself enjoy the moment.

"Hey, Daaé."

The pair's comical interaction was interrupted by a more stern, and even more tired sounding voice cutting over the gentle thrum of conversation in the café. Both girls snapped to attention, their heads turning to see one of the baristas at the counter motioning towards Christine with a lazy nod of his head.

"You're shift's up."

Christine sighed, reaching into her pocket and pinning her name tag to her apron, rising slowly from the table where Meg remained sat watching her silently. The brunette gave her a small smile in apology for her early departure before turning to wave her hand hurriedly to her colleague who was growing impatient at how long she was taking.

"I'm sorry Meg- I really wanted to be able to spend more time with you." She grimaced, clearing her still filled coffee cup from the table and wiping down the surface out of habit. "I promise I'll find another time where we can catch up, ok?"

Meg responded with a gentle smile, the kindness in her eyes laced with the soured glimmer of pity that Christine had grown to hate over the past few years. She wasn't one to want others to _pity_ her for any reason whatsoever.

"It's alright, just let me know when you're free." Her usually sing-song voice had stilled to one almost of calm reassurance, her look of understanding causing for Christine's stomach to churn.

 _She's your friend and she's worried about you, that's all._

Christine took a deep breath, her smile faltering slightly at her lips as she nodded before quickly whispering a goodbye and rushing off to the kitchen before anyone would notice the rattling cup of coffee she held between shaking hands.

* * *

The air was biting, harsh and unforgiving as another gust of wind barreled around the corner of the street, smacking Christine square in the face. Her skin was flushed red from the cold and she was walking quickly with her hands shoved into her pockets, smothered in a scarf that almost spanned the length of her entire body to shield herself from the arctic barrage.

Her days seemed to be dragging on longer, and _longer_ , becoming more and more unbearable with each setting of the sun. The sky had begun to fall into its deep blanket of darkness, the covers rolling over a city preparing for the night, but never quite falling asleep- and she was one of the many that remained stuck in-between the two worlds that were colliding before her, exploding a specular show of light melting into dark on the horizon.

Rounding the corner to her street, she spotted the dark and suspicious figure stooped over at her door before she did the tree directly in front of her. Panic sparking through her, she squinted and picked up her pace, opening her mouth to shout something before she collided suddenly with the immovable mass of maple wood and leaves that had materialized before her- collapsing into a helpless heap of shrieking winter clothing onto the unforgiving concrete pavement biting into her back. Huffing furiously, Christine scrambled back to her feet, her cheeks burning red no longer just from the cold as she frantically tried to sort the scarf that had just now decided to actually strangle her instead of keeping her warm. Out of breath and sore with her vision now restored, the livid brunette set to storm off to her door, ready for a confrontation when she found herself stopping only after taking a few steps. The strange shape had disappeared, leaving only a flat rectangular white object jammed awkwardly into her mailbox. With her burning curiosity triumphing over her more reasonable suspicion, Christine quickly found herself stood in the entryway of her home with the door closed firmly behind her, her bag abandoned on the floor as she held what had turned out to be a letter carefully up to the light.

' _Miss C. Daa_ _é_ _'_

Her name appeared to be handwritten on the envelope in a dark and precise cursive, her fingers tracing absentmindedly over the curls of her name in the glossy ink, admiring it as if it were a piece of art. The mystery of the note only deepened as she found, to her confusion, that there was no return address listed anywhere on the paper, and that her own address too, was absent. Her heart began to drum in her ears. What kind of letter had no return address? Forget that… what kind of letter was _hand delivered?_ For a moment, she considered forgetting it entirely and reporting the odd stranger at her door to the police- after all, she had _no_ idea who it had been. Then, that childish spark of curiosity flared to life within her again, and she couldn't help but wonder exactly what exciting peculiarity she may be missing out on if she were to follow her more rational train of thought… With bated breath, the air tensed with the sound of tearing paper, and Christine opened the letter.

' _Juilliard.'_

She froze. She had almost forgotten about her application, having submitted it at the very beginning of the season, and thought that she had been so insignificant to have not even been given the basic decency of a rejection letter. _Well here it was_ , she thought sarcastically, eyeing the pristine white sheet of stationery before her. The building shrill whine ringing in her ears discouraged her from reading much of the intimidating mass of text, but from what she could pick out immediately was that they had gotten the degree she had applied for wrong. What she had intended to be an application for a Bachelor of Music in Violin, had somehow been mistaken for a Bachelor of Music in _Vocal Arts_. She snorted. No wonder why she had been rejected. Without even so much as a sigh of disappointment, Christine began to apathetically fold the paper back neatly into the envelope when she caught sight of six particular words from near the top of the letter, her fingers pinching the paper tightly as she froze.

' _We are pleased to inform you…'_

No, that wasn't right.

'… _that you have been granted admission to the Bachelor of Music program at The Juilliard School…'_

This had to be some sort of joke or horrible mistake… right? Christine blinked in stunned confusion, her face drained of all color as she continued to read, her gaze catching again on an additional paragraph added towards the bottom of the page.

' _On a personal recommendation from someone in high regard at the University, I have seen to it personally that you receive a full scholarship for the duration of your studies here if you choose to enroll.'_

A personal recommendation? Someone in high regard? A full scholarship? She hadn't even applied for a scholarship! Christine's head spun, the words rising off the page before her to dance before her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly with each shallow breath she took as the meaning of what she had read just began to register in her mind.

' _Sincerely,_

 _Nadir Khan_

 _President'_

Then the reality of the situation hit her.

The President. The _President_ of _Juilliard_ had written, signed, and sent this letter to her. To _her._ _Christine Daaé_. To inform her that she had been _accepted_ into one of the most prestigious musical institutions on the _planet_. To inform her that she was _good enough_. That she was _wanted_.

 _This wasn't a rejection letter._

The words on the page below her began to blur together, her hand coming to her mouth to muffle her sobs as she sank to her knees in the hallway, clutching the letter in an unsteady but firm grip as if her life depended on it. This wasn't real, this _couldn't_ be happening- to her of all people! Once her breathing had evened out slightly and she was able to see past the still flowing tears, Christine cleared her throat and began to read the full letter out loud- desperately wanting to solidify the sacred words before her into reality.

When she had finished, an unfamiliar shaking ran through her body, her shoulders rising and falling and her chest hiccuping oddly as a strange sound echoed through the dim entryway. It sounded light, almost childish, and when she finally realized what it was, it rose in volume and she couldn't help but let herself smile- _truly_ smile as she heard the sound of her own laughter rising in her chest and sounding out into the cold darkness around her. She closed her eyes, clutching the paper to her chest as her elated tears trickled slowly down her now flushed cheeks.

"Thank you."

Her words were whispered quietly to the surrounding empty space, her thanks heard by no-one, and everyone at the same time.

" _Thank you._ "

And for the first time in years, Christine Daaé was truly happy.

For the first time, she had _hope._

* * *

 **Author's Note :**

Finally, we get to see Christine herself… with an acceptance from The Juilliard School no less! Within the next few chapters the main plotline will kick in and who knows… she may even meet someone quite peculiar indeed…

Feel free to leave a review to let me know your thoughts and to share the fic around! Every ounce of feedback means the world!


End file.
